


Danger keeps you safe

by Spectre_Anon



Series: Out of the Fire [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 09:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8483782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spectre_Anon/pseuds/Spectre_Anon
Summary: Junkrat was going to die. He wasn't stupid. Knew how shit would play out if it kept on down this road. And the funny thing, the funny thing was he'd actually thought stuff was looking up for once. Then life went and kneed him in the balls in true outback fashion, which was exactly what you got for being hopeful. 
Basically Junkrat knows he won't last long with every bounty hunter and opportunist in the outback after his skin, but he doesn't know what he can do about it... until during a risky venture he stumbles across what might just be the answer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for bad language... :)

Junkrat was going to die. He wasn't stupid. Knew how shit would play out if it kept on down this road. And the funny thing, the _funny_ thing was he'd actually thought stuff was looking up for once. Then life went and kneed him in the balls in true outback fashion, which was exactly what you got for being hopeful.

Probably his fault if he thought about it. He should have remembered that finding something wasn't the same as keeping it. Should have kept his mouth shut. But he was so god damned excited, practically giddy. That treasure was supposed to have been his ticket out of this dump... Now every bleedin' fucker in the whole of Oz wanted his head and there was only so long a man with one leg could stay one step ahead. Pun intended.

He gnawed at his cracked and bloody lip, eying the distant horizon.

It wasn't so bad at the start. He'd killed the first two idiots who'd tried to nab him and if anything he'd just been peeved, but two nights laters someone else tried, and after that another, and soon enough Junkrat had realized his mistake. He could blow up the bastards that got close enough, but they just kept on coming. No matter how many he killed there was always someone else to take their place and he only had so many bombs. It was hard to scavenge components on the run, harder still to build 'em. It wouldn't be long before he ran out. And then... well, he liked to think he could throw a punch but that wouldn't be enough.

Food was a problem too. No time to barter, he'd had to steal. Nothing new to a Junker but opportunities were few and far between out here and he could feel hunger gnawing at his stomach with a keen edge. He'd supplemented what he had with bugs or small lizards he caught on his way, and maybe he could have made it work if he'd had all day to set up traps or take a stab at real hunting, but he had to keep moving, had to build ammunition for the next bugger that caught up... his energy was waining. And water... that was even harder to come by.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place was what he was. Had to make his way back to Junkertown for supplies but that left him surrounded, and he'd chanced civilization before but every escape felt closer than the last. Couldn't survive like this. Only a matter of time...

It made him angry. Made him bleedin' furious. He wanted to kick and scream and shriek at whatever the fuck had messed his life up worse than it had already been but there was nothing out there but dirt and rocks and his throat was too dry anyway. At least he couldn't see anyone tailing him. Not yet...

Something had to change. Something, but he didn't know what. Didn't know what he could do. That frustration had no answer, and in the end all he _could_ do was what he always did when stuff when wrong – take it a day at a time. Right now what he needed was food, water, and materials. That meant he had no choice, and in some ways that was easier. Just didn't lessen the weight in his chest.

When he set up camp he could still see it lurking on the horizon like an ominous reminder – Junkertown. By the shattered remains of the omnium it huddled, all craggy shapes and ramshackle buildings. He'd used to call it home. Only place he'd ever called home... he wondered sometimes if there was somewhere else, back before the big boom, but he couldn't picture anything. Had heard stories of a world not gone to shit, but that was only talk to someone like him. Was a nice idea though... stupid, maybe, but nice.

It plagued his mind as he rested, keeping him from his light sleep. Wasn't something he'd thought of in a long while. He scratched pictures in the dirt with his blackened fingernails, trying to imagine what it could be like. What the rest of the world was still like... if he'd got proper money for his treasure he'd be there right now.

His fingers curled. He scrubbed the pictures away and rolled over, trying to hide a snarl that no one was there to see.

____

Sleep, when he found it, was fitful as it always was. You couldn't risk a good long doze out here, had to still be listening for any warning sound, ready to be up and fighting in a second... he slipped in and out of consciousness until the sky began to lighten. Then he collected his traps and began to move.

Entering Junkertown was a problem. There wasn't much he could do to disguise himself. Sure, he wasn't the only bloke missing a limb, but he was still distinctive and people had an eye out for him these days. Catching him meant a big pay day and there was no Junker alive that'd pass that up... he'd learned _that_ the hard way. The fact that walking right in was so stupid no one would really expect it would buy him a couple of minutes but still needed to be quick. Had to get in fast, and get out faster.

At least he knew where he was going. Junkrat wasted no time, picking up his pace as soon as he reached the outermost shacks that marked the start of Junkertown. His peg leg clanked furiously against the ground, and he prickled at the sound of it cos it seemed _so damn obvious_ , but no one was looking. He'd picked the right time for an approach. Most folk would have begun their day scavenging by now, that all but halved the population. The rest probably had better stuff to be doing than lurking outside on the streets, even them that made a living doing just that – it was too early for their routine.

No one stopped him walking right into Earl's store. He didn't hesitate once he was inside, just kept on going, up to the counter, up to the man sitting behind in his rickety chair. He didn't stop there either. Keeping his momentum he carried on across the counter and before the man had a chance to react Junkrat had him on the floor, a bomb pressed forcefully into his open mouth.

Earl considered him with narrowed eyes. Junkrat regarded the older man in turn, acutely aware of the shotgun now pressed to the side of his skull.

“Long time no see huh Earl?” he said, tapping the fingers of his prosthetic hand thoughtfully on the floor. His other hand held the detonator, thumb hovering over the trigger. Earl grunter around the shape of the bomb.

“Now, here's how this is gonna go,” Junkrat continued lightly, as if this were nothing more than a friendly chat, “you're gonna put that there gun down and sit nice an' quiet like while I help meself to a few things... just a bit of this an' that, enough to keep me goin'... think of it as a favor if ya want... fer a valued customer... otherwise... shit's likely to get explosive.”

He waggled the detonator meaningfully. Earl's expression was unmoving. And Junkrat could read it in his eyes, in the way the pressure of the shotgun barrel shifted - he knew what Earl was thinking. _Ya wouldn't do it._

Junkrat laughed. He grinned, that sharp-toothed, wild grin he spared for his more reckless moments. “Awww mate, course I would, ya know me!” He gave Earl a good natured slap on the shoulder. “Ya know I'm batshit crazy! Ya know I'd do it if I thought ya was meanin' ta cause trouble.”

Earl stared at him coldly while Junkrat wiggled his eyebrows. Eventually, with painstaking slowness, the gun was lowered. He picked it up and set it out of hands reach.

“Ta. Now, shuffle over where I can keep an eye on ya and stay still, I'll only be a tick. No need to... lose ya head.” He snickered at his own joke but he seemed to be the only one amused.

Earl was obliging enough to move, Junkrat all the while watching him keenly for any sign of betrayal. He was a wily old fella, Junkrat's memory was fickle but he could still recall what had happened to a few of those stupid enough to try and rob him in past years. Junkrat was now one of them, which really went to prove how desperate he was feeling.

Once he was satisfied Earl was going to stay put he moved to the shelves, scanning them quickly. He pulled his pack open and began to grab anything that looked handy – scrap that could be used for bomb casings, wires, useful bits of metal he couldn't identify, unlabeled food cans, water. His eyes flickered between his work and Earl, who still hadn't moved. Feeling confident enough Junkrat popped the lid off a water flask, taking a long drink. It was heaven. Washed the taste of desert dust right out. He gave a satisfied sigh, capping the flask again and stuffing it into his pack where it clanked against the other contents. “That's tha stuff!”

Out the corner of his eye he thought he saw movement. He whipped his head around to Earl instantly and the man froze, the perfect facade of innocence.

Junkrat squinted at him. He pointed an accusatory finger. “Ya best be behavin' mate, cos I ain't playin' around here. Ya fuck with me and you'll be paintin' the ceiling... not like I want to, mind, don't mean ya no ill will... been tradin' here for years, ain't that right? Known ya since I was a tiny scrapper... but I got me priorities, same as anyone. That clear?”

Earl inclined his head in a very careful nod.

“Great!” Junkrat exclaimed brightly, and went back to looting. He needed enough to sustain him for a few weeks at the least... wasn't sure what he'd do then. If he kept coming back, or visiting the distant, smaller settlements that had spread from the town then they'd catch him sooner or later. But he already knew this wasn't going to last... that he was just borrowing time. Ha, stealing it maybe, since that seemed to be his latest hobby. But a Junker knew how to get by one day at a time... to just survive, and hope that the next day they'd get lucky, and then maybe, _maybe_ there'd be a future after all. It was all about forgetting how royally fucked you were and making do.

He hefted his pack, checking the weight to see if he had room for anything more. There was a can of yellow paint that had caught his attention but he wasn't sure if it'd be a waste of space all considered. That's when Earl made his move.

Spat the bomb out and lunged toward his gun. Didn't matter. He hadn't spat it quite far enough. Junkrat pressed the trigger.

The the explosion rocked the shop, spilling junk and breaking lopsided shelves, blasting the air with dust and smoke and fire... finishing off what remained of the store owner seemed more like a mercy killing than anything. Junkrat didn't feel bad about it. You did what you had to in the outback, and that meant pulling the trigger first. Bloke had always been a bit of a twat anyways.

“I told ya I ain't playin' around, ya drongo,” he said, almost to himself as he picked up the dented can of paint from the wreckage and fit it into his pack. “Told ya.”

Now he had to move though. The sound of the explosion would almost certainly have caught someone's attention and he didn't want to be there when they came to investigate. He slung his pack over his back and made a hasty exit.

Someone was already hurrying to the site. He slipped past them, legs itching to run.

“Oi!”

He ignored the voice, focused on the direction he was heading.

“Oi you... wait... you're him, ain'tcha? You little shit!”

Junkrat turned and offered the man a grin. He didn't recognize him, not that that meant anything. Junkrat's memory was far from reliable, he often forgot people who weren't distinctive by his standards.

“Don't know what ya talkin' about mate,” he said, still walking backward. Another figure had appeared from a nearby shack and he could see a third on the way.

“The fuck you don't. You're that greedy piece of crap what found some treasure in the omnium. Pretty penny on your head.”

There was a hungry sparkle in the mans eye, an opportunist with a prize in sight. He was speaking too damn loud too. All the others gathering had perked up, attention fixed at him.

Junkrat's grin stretched hard enough it hurt. “I'd think twice if I were you. Mighty attached to me head. Figure ya might feel the same.”

He pulled a grenade, tossing it lightly up and down in case they had any doubts as to his intentions. The man only hesitated a moment, then ignored his warning entirely. He ran right at Junkrat, straight into the grenade. He didn't get very far.

After a moments consideration Junkrat lobbed another one in the general direction of the others beginning to gather, cackling at the blast. There was something so satisfying about explosions, the power of them, the way they bloomed red and gold, strangely beautiful in this wasteland.

“Excuse me ladies an' gents, gotta _blow_ this dump.” He snickered again, recovering enough that he remembered he should be fleeing.

When he turned to go though there were others in his way... because explosions always drew a crowd. Had a moment to regret his stupidity. “Well bugger me,” he muttered, then someone threw a fist at him. He ducked, laughing as he swung his own in return. Missed of course but he jabbed his peg leg at them and they gave a satisfying cry of pain. Shoving them aside he broke into an awkward run, dodging around those in his path.

Someone tackled him and he hit the ground with an 'oof!'

Recognized the tattoo on the arm that was trying to snake its way around his neck.

“Wondered if you'd be stupid enough to show your face again Rat,” the bartender said. He remembered eating scraps under the tables at her place when he'd been young. A luxury for a small, desperate child. She'd been kind enough that she only hit him occasionally, and if the weather was bad she'd let him shelter for the night. Only reason he'd survived long enough to build his leg. None of that seemed to matter now.

“Miss me?” he asked wryly, jabbing his elbow into her stomach. Her breath left her in a gasp and and he wriggled free, staggering up.

He managed a few more feet before someone else snatched at him. He jabbed his fingers into their eyes and they let him go but there were more hands, more than he could stop.

“Get 'is leg off, he ain't goin' anywhere then!” one of them was yelling as Junkrat struggled, worming out of one grip only to fall prey to another. Too many, too many, holding him down, he couldn't escape. His pulse thudded in his ears. Someone was fiddling with the joint of his peg leg, trying to work out how to twist it off. Teeth bit together in a snarl he managed to reach into his satchel. He pulled out his last mine, slapping it down onto the ground. Startled eyes met his and Junkrat beamed just before it detonated.

Then his ears were roaring and he was tossed away by the shock wave, landing painfully on his back meters away. He groaned. His body ached, his head throbbed, his limbs felt shaky. Still, wasn't the first time he'd taken an explosion, he knew he'd survive, that he'd recover quicker than any of _them_. He rolled onto his knees, ignoring the creak of his joints as he forced himself up. Had to get moving, had to get away...

He limped a few steps while he tried to work up the energy for the run he needed to make. Then something sharp bit into his waist. Suddenly he was sailing backward with a shriek.

Pulled right into the hands of a monster. The man loomed in a way no one else he'd seen ever had, huge bulk doing nothing to hide the deadly muscle lurking beneath. He wore a mask shaped like a pig and Junkrat would have found it funny except that it was _bloody terrifyin'_ and he was trapped in the man's massive hands while those expressionless glass lenses stared down at him.

Junkrat let out a laugh that sounded shrill even to his own ears. “Hooly dooly, you're fuckin' huge!”

Typical that nothing sensible would come out of his mouth.

The man let out a low grunt, but his attention was not on Junkrat, it was on one of the Junkers who had regained their feet and was stumbling toward them. “He worth money?” he asked, voice deep and rumbling... spoken slow, like the words took their time.

“Yeah, but not to you! I had 'im first, okay?”

The monster of a man said nothing, just stared down the Junker.

The Junker paused. Second by second he was taking in the sight of the massive man, his tattoo, his mask, his hook, the heavy scrap gun he carried. As the aftermath of the blast began to fade he seemed to regain his senses and to think better about picking this fight.

Another unfortunate wasn't so wise. He swung a crowbar at the man. It bounced off him harmlessly, and the masked pig face turned to look at the attacker. Almost lazily he took one hand off Junkrat and lifted his scrap gun. The attacker's head exploded in a shower of gore. As if in slow motion his body toppled, the crowbar clanking to the ground in the steadily growing pool of blood.

Junkrat cackled. A genuine laugh this time, not a nervous one. He was grinning too, wide and delighted because he remembered feeling something like this before, a long time ago, back when he'd lost his leg.

He'd been little more than a kid back then, busy scavenging so he'd have something to trade for food that night. Didn't know enough to stand still when something clicked beneath him.

The world exploded in fire and pain. And as he lay there, too shocked to move, watching smoke trailing away into the amber sky it wasn't fear that struck him, nor anger, but awe. The agony of it barely seemed to reach him. All he could think about was the blast, how easily it had torn everything apart... that power... that destruction... and he had _wanted_ it. Because if he had that power for himself then no one could touch him, there wasn't a thing that could stand in his way. It would keep him _safe_.

And back in the present, as he gazed up at the giant of a man gripping his arms he knew that he was looking at the same raw, destructive force of nature... and he knew, without a doubt, that this was exactly what he needed. Something that could tear him to pieces with ease... and could stand between him and everything that dared to threaten him.

He twisted as far as he could in the man's grip, fighting to get the best view of his captor. Junkrat's smile was sly, orange eyes bright with a renewed sort of energy as he contemplated the man. “Forget me bounty, mate,” he said, barely able to contain another gleeful laugh. “I got an offer for you ya ain't never gonna regret!”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think, it was fun to write something set before! I haven't spent much time editing so I'm sorry if there are some dumb typos, feel free to point them out if you like :)


End file.
